Page 83 of The Black Key

“Oh no,” the Duchess says. “He will never abandon me again.”

Something in her tone makes me uncomfortable. Cora looks unnerved as well—she glances about the room, but it’s empty except for the eight of us.

“But he did once,” I say, trying to find a weak spot. My eyes flicker to the dagger still pressed to Hazel’s neck. “He left you. He married the Electress.”

“Don’t speak as if you know anything about him,” the Duchess snaps. “He never chose to leave me. We were forced apart.” She raises her head proudly. “We love each other. More than any two people have ever loved before. We made something beautiful together and they took it, they ripped it from me even as I begged them not to. They called it a monster, the life that was growing inside me.” There is a wild look in her eyes. “It’s not fair!” she cries. “You poor, stupid, useless surrogates can bear a child and I cannot.”

I am stunned. The Duchess was pregnant? Royal women are sterilized upon marriage, but clearly, the Duchess and Exetor slept together before that. I hear a gasp from Garnet. Even Cora seems shocked. It would have ruined the Duchess’s House forever if the news got out.

Her eyes are bright with tears even as her hands shake with anger. A thick drop of blood oozes from the point of the blade and drips down Hazel’s neck.

“What a little fool I was,” the Duchess whispers. “To think they’d let me keep it.”

For a moment, I can see her, the Duchess, young and in love. Who might she have grown into, had things gone differently?

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I say. Carnelian tears her eyes away from Ash to give me a shocked look. It exactly mirrors the expression on the Duchess’s face, and for the first time since I’ve known them, I can see that they are related.

The Duchess’s shock melts away to scorn. “I don’t need your pity,” she says. “Nor do I want it.”

“That’s the difference between us,” I say. “You see pity. You see weakness. I see compassion. I see strength. But when you suffer, you feel you must make others suffer around you. You allowed this tragedy to turn you into something cold and cruel. You murdered Dahlia, a girl whose name you didn’t even know, who had done nothing to you. You poisoned her out of spite. You killed Annabelle for no reason except to punish me. You took away a beautiful life on a whim, to make a point. You might have become something great, Pearl,” I say, taking a note from Raven’s book and addressing the Duchess as an equal, “and instead you are just another petty, sniping royal.”

“She is infinitely more than that,” a low voice says. The Exetor steps out of the shadows as his guard files into the room, marching in unison, their red jackets matching the seats of the thrones.

“Onyx,” the Duchess says with relief. “I was wondering where you were.”

No less than twenty Regimentals surround us, all carrying rifles.

We are trapped.

Twenty-Seven

THE EXETOR SAUNTERS OVER TO KISS THE DUCHESS ON the cheek, ignoring Hazel struggling between them.

“I was going to send these men out into the city,” he says, “but then I heard voices and thought I should check on you.”

“I’m so glad you did, my darling. You remember my old surrogate, 197. She’s come back to rescue her sister.”

“Just as you suspected,” the Exetor says. His gaze lands on Garnet. “What is he doing here?”

“He’s with them,” the Duchess says. “Always such a disappointment.”

The Exetor traces the line of the Duchess’s jaw with a finger. “You deserved better,” he says.

They don’t even look at us. Garnet’s lone pistol is nothing against all those rifles. Neither is Ash’s sword.

“So,” the Duchess says, turning to me, “how long were you working with the eunuch?”

My brain is spinning furiously, trying to come up with a solution to get us out of this. The best thing to do is keep her talking while I figure out a plan.

“He had a name,” I say.

“I’m fully aware of Lucien’s name, I simply don’t—”

“He had a name and it wasn’t Lucien. Do you even understand why all of this is happening?” I gesture out a window depicting a sunset in a blaze of color. “Can you even conceive of what you have done to the people of this city? To the island itself?”

The Duchess’s smile is icy. “You are a foolish little girl. This island would be nothing without us. We made it great. We created something where there was nothing before.”

“There wasn’t nothing,” I say. “There were people here, and your ancestors, the ones you are so proud of, killed them all. Or at least, they thought they did.”